


Detroit: Fight Aliens

by NittyGrittyBonBon



Category: Alien Series, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aliens au with no prequel written, Characters will die, Connor not licking blood off the damn floor, Dialogue and technology is tweak to fit characters, F/F, I mean ppl get hansy but it aint the main tea of the story, M/M, Plot elements rearranged and also tweaked, but not the ship, don't need to even explain that bit, dont get attached to the side characters, it would would melt a hole through his pretty lil tongue, rating is mainly about the violence, sequel never happened, so i didnt tag it as such, straight run through of movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NittyGrittyBonBon/pseuds/NittyGrittyBonBon
Summary: After the violent events of the Alien, Henry Anderson, or Hank, had gone to stasis. He wakes up in the later future, where it seems like they had no clue about the creature he had confronted, and made a damn colony in the source of all evil. He joins Elijah Kamski, from the company, on the Detroit to figure out just what may be happening on the very planet he had found the source of his night terrors. He just hopes the crew he is with has what it takes.And considering his last encounter, hopefully there are no androids on board.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be absolutely clear: I'm writing the second movie. Theres no first part to this. I may write one, depending on how this one goes, but it will likely not be connected to this. The story is heavily based on the canon dialogue, just tweaked for the personalities of the characters that took on the roles. From there I took more liberties with the plot, but the skeleton is still there. Second reminder is that this is a Hank/Connor ship so... uh, yeah they gunna be an item by some point in the story. They will be romantic. No sexy times though, the rating is more about the violence.

Hank woke up extremely groggy. He looked around to see that he was in a white brightly lit room, disinfected and clean. Soft beeping was heard near by. 

_A hospital?_ He wondered, confused with his surrounds. A nurse came to view, confirming his theory, and greeting him.

"Good morning Mr. Anderson," she stated warmly, automatically placing pillows behind him as he sat up, "how are we today?"

"I feel like shit," he murmured.

The nurse nodded, easily taking his dialogue without missing a beat, "better than yesterday."

The older man groaned in pain as he shifted around, "Jesus...," he glanced around a little more, "where am I?"

"You're safe," the woman replied, "you're at Gateway Station. You've been here a couple of days."

She looked over his chart and review his readings, "You were pretty groggy at first, but now you're fine."

They both turned at the sound of the door sliding open, "Looks like you've got a visitor," the nurse commented.

Hank sagged in relief as he saw his St. Bernard trot his way to him, leash carried by a young man with a classy raven haired man-bun. 

"Sumo, you son of a bitch. Get over here," he chuckled, scrubbing the dog under the chin and getting drool all over his bed.

"I suppose you both have met," the man who brought him in started conversationally. Anderson looked him over. He looked like he was in his mid thirties, his skin pale, and his eyes light blue. He sat on the chair near the bed and leaned forward with interest, "My name is Elijah Kamski. I work for the company," a cool smile breezed over his face, "but please, don't let that fool you. I'm sure you'll warm up to me once we get past the formalities."

He looked Anderson over, leaning back and making himself comfortable, "I'm happy to see you making progress in health. Rest assured, they've told me all your weakness and disorientation should pass soon. Just natural side effect from such an unusually long hyper sleep."

Hank frowned, his fingers idly raking through Sumo's fur, "what do you mean? How long was I out there?"

Kamski frowned, glancing around before returning to Hank's gaze, "...I'm sorry. Has anyone discussed this with you yet?"

"Not a chance," the pilot huffed.

Nodding, Kamski looked around again, leveling Hank with a polite smile, "Forgive me, but I fear I may be breeching on territory that is beyond me. It's just... well, it might just come across as a shock. It's been so long-"

"How long, Kamski?" Anderson urged, interrupting the rant.

The younger man blinked at the interruption. He replied slowly, "Fifty-seven years."

"...what?" Hank breathed out. 

57 years. Shit, that was a long-ass time.

Elijah launched into an explanation as Hank felt a sudden rush of dizziness coursing through him.

"You drifted right through the core systems. Blind luck is what got you here. That and a deep-salvage team. Honestly it was one in a thousand to have found you."

Kamski returned to his polite smile, "You are one lucky man, Hank. You'd be debris in space had we not caught you in our view."

Hank felt his heartbeat skyrocket. His eyes focusing and unfocusing at the man before him. But not solely due to the information the man had given him.

"...Are you alright, Anderson?" Elijah asked, confusion in his voice.

No. He fucking wasn't. He felt sick. _Extremely_ sick. The sensation hit him like a bullet train, powering beyond the shock he had felt just a moment ago.

"Mr. Anderson?" He vaguely heard Kamski ask once more next to him.

Suddenly Sumo stood up, barking sharply. He backed up from Hank and growled.

All the older man could do was groan, writhing in pain as something in his abdomen pulsed inside him. His anxiety skyrocketed, and Sumo renewed barking loudly at him. His usual low barks replaced by loud ones that drummed into his skull.

He could hear himself hyperventilating as he clutched this stomach. The younger man quickly stood to press the nurse bell, calling out something that didn't register in Hank's mind.

His stomach. Shit, his insides felt cramped up all of a sudden. He gasped out, clawing at the bedsheets he was laying on and squirmed in pain. 

Fuck. Fuck, he knew what was happening now, and he felt a new wave of stress wash over him.

Suddenly the doctor and nurse rushed in, and it was all Hank could do from crying.

"Please...!" He cried out, reaching out. He clasped the doctor's hand, but was unable to lift himself up, "goddamn it, _help_ me...!"

The doctor looked him over frantically and the nurse hovered over them in concern as Anderson widened his blue eyes. They had to kill him. Jesus christ, someone had to gun him down right the fuck now. He reached down and lifted the gown with shaky hands to expose his stomach, watching in horror as the flesh began to stretch in an unnatural manner. 

"No!" He cried out as he saw the familiar extraterrestrial shape pulling up against his flesh, "NO!"

He jolted upward, gasping.

He caught his breath, collecting himself as he realized he had woken up from a nightmare. The man willed himself to take deep breaths, dragging a hand across his face and clutching his stomach. He was absolutely soaking in sweat. 

The former pilot glanced at the window, eyes caught on the planet before him until he shifted his eyes back down to the corner of the room. Sumo was staring at him from his makeshift bed of pillows on the floor near him, softly panting. Poor guy must have heard him screaming in his sleep. He vaguely wondered if that's why he was barking in his dream. To wake him up. Lord knows his dog had done it before.

"Nightmares again?"

His attention jolted to the computer that had flickered to life next to him. Damn technology, scaring the shit out of him. But if he was being honest, he was both grateful and embarrassed to see another face at the moment. The nurse was staring at him curiously, nothing like the panic in her eyes he had seen just a moment ago. She was likely used to it by this point, really. He kept waking up to the same fucking nightmare, after all.

At his silence, the nurse cocked her head, "I have something you can take if you need to sleep."

Hank closed his eyes, finally feeling his heart rate return to something other than an overworked snaredrum, "...nah. I've slept enough," he murmured, looking over to Sumo, who has risen and padded slowly he side. 

The nurse nodded, and then signed off the screen with a click. The pilot rolled over to sit at the edge of the bed, and his large St. Bernard slowly reached him and propped his chin on top of his knees. He then made a soft whined, seeming to notice his owner's distress.

"Everything's going to be fine," Hank murmured, scratching his friend around the ears, his voice low and soothing, "we're okay now, boy. It's over..."

Whether the statement was more to reassure himself or Sumo was unclear. But the point was that it had to be enough right now.

* * *

"How many times do I gotta repeat this so you hacks can finally get it through your thick skulls?! It's been three fucking hours."

Hank was sick of this powerpoint reenactment of what he could only describe the most fuck up segment of his life. He dragged his gaze around the room, full of stuffy businessmen arranged around a large executive table. His eyes landed on Kamski, who was one person away from him, wearing a sharp Navy suit, instead of his plaid button up. The man gave him a reassuring nod when he met his gaze. The former pilot grimaced, shifting his sight at the pads they each had in front of them, and drinks set neatly in front of them. God, he wanted to just grab one and down it himself in one go.

One of the business men sitting at the head of everything leaned forward, "I understand your concern, Mr. Anderson. We all do. But look at this from our perspective, would you?"

He made a vague gesture, awaiting for the Hank to sit and give him the floor, "please?"

Hank sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to reject it anyhow, and sat. He glanced at the name plaque propped near him, _Richard Perkins_. The man gave a pleased smile before continuing.

"Now, you freely admitted to detonating the engines and thereby destroying an M-Class Starfreighter, which mind you, is an expensive piece of hardware."

"42 million in adjust dollars. Minus payload, of course," another one of them piped in. Hank forced himself not to roll his eyes. The other made a small nod of acknowledgement before he resumed his piece.

"The lifeboats flight recorder corroborated some elements of your account. In that, for reasons unknown, the Nostromo set down on LV-426, unsurveyed planet at the time. And that it resumed its course and was subsequently set for self-destruct, BY YOU, for reasons unknown."

"Not for reasons unknown!" Hank exclaimed, slamming his fist on the counter, "We set down there on COMPANY ORDERS to get this thing, which annihilated my crew...!" He shook his head, recalling the events, "and your expensive ship."

The head honcho of the group gave him a practiced smile, "the analysis team, which went over the lifeboat centimeter by centimeter, found no physical evidence of the creature you described-"

"Good!" Hank interrupted, knocking his chair over as he stood. He leaning forward to snarl at everyone in the room, "Because I blew it out of the goddamn air lock!"

The room visibly tensed, and Hank took a calming breath, dragging his hand across his face, "like I said..."

He let the statement linger, and allowed himself to keep his cool. Some shuffled in their seats and one woman took a drag out of her cigarette. Kamski, who was sitting two people away from her, grimaced at the smoke.

"Are there any species like this hostile organism on LB-426?" One of the other men inquired, looking around the room.

"No," stated the woman who was smoking. Smoke seeped out of her mouth as she spoke in a clipped manner, "It's a rock. No indigenous life."

Fucking hell, Hank thought to himself.

"Did I.Q.'s just drop sharply while I was gone?" He spat out incredulously, "Ma'am, I already said that it wasn't indigenous. It was an alien ship. It wasn't from there. Do you get that?"

He leaned forward, his voice low and urgent, "we homed in on its beacon-"

"And found something never recorded once in over 300 surveyed worlds," the woman countered in a deadpanned manner. She pulled up something on her pad as she balanced her cigarette in her other hand. He was sure she was pulling up his very words, "'a creature that gestates inside a living human host.'-"

"Yes-" the man on trial nodded.

"These are your words. 'And has concentrated acid for blood.'"

"That's exactly it," Hank replied, frustration evident in his tone. He sat down, clenching his jaw, "I know you lot aren't gunna believe me. But I'm telling you that these creatures _exist_."

"Thank you officer Anderson, that will be all," the bigwig stated.

"You're not listening," Hank pushed forward, his voice uncharacteristically diplomatic, "Kane, my crew member... Kane, who went into that ship... said he saw thousands of eggs there. _Thousands_."

The man showed no hint of compassion, and stood up with a tone of finality, "Thank you, that will be all."

Hank felt his blood pressure spike, "No, it god damn isn't all!"

Some of the people in the room sagged in their chairs, seeming to be tired of this. Kamski surveyed the room calmly, his mood never shifting away from cool as a cucumber. Honestly Hank could could give less of a fuck, and kept going.

"Because if one of those things gets down here, then THAT will be all!" He slammed the pad that had been handed to him onto the table with a loud crack, "Then all of this bullshit that you think is so fucking important, well you can just kiss all of it good-bye!"

Silence loomed over the room as Hank stared at the head of this whole debacle. He noted that he looked entirely hysterical and the man regarded him with cold lifeless eyes.

He knew who this room was leaning towards.

The meeting was then adjourned, and the file was closed. Hank paced back and forth in frustration, and Kamski approached him.

"That could have been better," he stated calmly, but Hank paid him no mind, "What we need to do is-"

Hank shoved past him, "Perkins," he called out to the man who he had been appealing to. He blocked him from leaving, using his body to cover the doorway, and stared at him in the eye, "why don't you just check the LV-426?"

Perkins shrugged, throwing Anderson a condescending smile, "because I don't have to. There have been people there for over 20 years and they never complained about any hostile organism."

The taller man narrowed his eyes, rephrasing the statement slowly, "what do you mean? What people?"

"Terraformers. Planet Engineers," the businessman replied, "They go in, set up these big atmosphere processors to make air breathable. Takes decades. It's what we call a 'Shake 'n Bake' coloney," the man moved to leave, but Hank planted his fist on the wall to block him.

"How many are there? How many colonists?" He asked carefully.

The man before him seemed to miss the air of urgency in his tone, or chose to ignore it, "I don't know," he shrugged once more, "maybe 70 families?" He nodded at the hand blocking him, "Do you mind?"

Vaguely noting he was even moving, Hank removed his hand. His mind numb with the information he was given. 

"Families," he whispered, his tone defeated, "Jesus..."

* * *

His next morning was as common as they came. Hank watched as his kerug slowly made him a batch of coffee, his mind wandering off into space. He then glanced at Sumo, who happily stared at him, tail wagging. 

A buzz brought his attention to his door, and he frowned in confusion. It slid open to reveal Elijah Kamski and another man in uniform.

"Good morning Anderson. This is Lieutenant Daniel Philips of the Colonial Marine Corps-"

Hank let the door slid shut.

"Anderson, we have to talk," smaller man called from the other side of the door. There was a pause before the man spoke softer, "listen, we've lost contact with the colony on LV-426."

Anderson glanced at Sumo, who was happily panting across the room. He gritted his teeth and opened the door, allowing them inside.

"I can't believe this bullshit," Hank spat out as they awkwardly shuffled their way inside. He strode over to pour himself some coffee. He restlessly stirred his drink as he turned around to speak. Sumo stood, trotting closely by the silver haired man.

"You guys throw me to the damn wolves and now you want me to go back?" He scoffed, shaking his head, "Forget it. I'm not going back out there. Not my fucking problem."

"May I finish?" Kamski asked, sitting primly on Hank's chair.

"Fuck you," Hank snarled. 

The Lieutenant stepped forward, throwing the man a frown of disapproval, "Anderson, you would be going in with the troops, I can guarantee your safety."

The man in question raised one brow at him before shaking his head and stepping further into his room. Kamski followed behind him.

"The Colonial Marines are very efficient. They carry state of the art firepower and there's absolutely nothing they cannot handle," he nodded at the marine, "Can I say this is so, lieutenant?"

Philips glanced back at him, "That's true. We've been trained to deal with situations like this."

Anderson snorted, his tone cynical, "Yeah? Then why the hell do you need me? I ain't a soldier."

Kamski leaned forward, "Yes, but we don't know exactly what is going on down there. It may just be that the transmitter is simply down, for all we know. But if it's not... well, I'd like you there as an adviser. And that's all."

Anderson sighed, his gaze darting between the two men standing in his home.

"...Look, I need to get to work."

At this Elijah nodded, suddenly shifting into a much more casual tone, "Oh, right. I hear you are working the cargo docks."

"That's right," Hank replied, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the smaller man.

Kamski stood, calmly walking further in his room and treating himself to a cup of coffee, "Running loaders and forklifts, that sort of thing-?"

"Yeah? What's it to you?" Anderson cut him off curtly, turning to eye him.

Kamski shook his head, level headed as usual, "Nothing. I think it's great that you're keeping busy. And I know it's the only thing that you could get. There's nothing wrong with it."

Hank glanced at the lieutenant next to him before looking back at Kamski. The latter took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "what would you say about getting you reinstated as a flight officer?"

Anderson felt his hand tighten on his own mug.

"The company's already agreed to pick up your contract," The man before him elaborated.

"If... if I go," The older man acknowledged breathlessly.

"If you go," the smaller man reiterated, nodding. He then shrugged, as though revealing this information was inconsequential and wasn't blowing the former pilot's mind, "This a perfect second chance, Hank. And I think, personally, that it would be the best thing in the world to get out there and face this head on and go back to what you do best."

Hank rolled his eyes, "Spare me the TED talk, Kamski. I've already had my psych evaluation this month," he sipped his cup, and leaned over to scratch Sumo behind the ears.

Kamski walked closer, his voice coming out coolly, but firm. His intrusive gaze seeming to peel through his soul and easily analyzing him, "Yes, I know. I've read it. You wake up every night from your nightmares. Your sheets are soaking with sweat, anxiety skyrocketting-"

Anderson jerk up to shoved him, "I said no, and I fucking mean it, you prick!"

Realizing his mistake, Elijah blinked and nodded his apology. He lifted his hands in an act of good will, but Anderson had enough of this.

"Get the hell out," the older man ordered sternly. He eyed them both, frozen in place at his outburst. The older man then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm not going. I can't... I wouldn't be of any use even if I did."

Elijah nodded, looking at him with an intense gaze, "It's understandable, Anderson," he moved to tap his chin, contemplating on whether or not he should continue, but did so anyway.

"Would you do me a favor? Just think about it," he pulled out his business card and placed it on the counter of the kitchen. It was made of heavy duty glass, with his name and company laser cut and painted in silver. He then looked over to the lieutenant and gestured for them to leave.

"Thank you letting us in," Philips commented before ducking out of the room.

Hank watched them leave, the door sliding with a click. It took him a momdnt until he turned to feed Sumo.

His shift was going to start soon, and he'd be able to distract himself with mindless work.

* * *

While his job eased him out of his thought, sleep, it would seem, did the exact opposite. Rest was a luxury that Anderson seemed to no longer have. He woke up once more in a panic, his voice tearing out a broken scream, and his breath transitioned to hyperventilation. His body was dripping with sweat and the man gritted his teeth and gasped in pain, clutching his chest.

Nothing was helping. Nothing could stop this feeling of despair overwhelming him. He slammed his fish against the wall, cursing up a storm as all the memories flooded back to him. Nightmares. If only that's all they were.

He dragged his hand through his sweaty hair, feeling his hands trembling without his control. Sumo whined somewhere across the dark room as he strode over to his bathroom and washed his face in the sink. He stared at his reflection, taking in the mess his hair was, the red under his eyes, the wild look in them.

This had to stop. And there was only one way he could cut off his clawing feeling. Or at the bare minimum, soothe it to sanity.

He strode over and clicked on his computer, tapping his fingers as he waited for the line he called up to connect. There was some static before he saw a shirtless Kamski with a bedhead waking up in a brightly lit room.

"Anderson? Are you alright?" Concern laced his voice. He shuffled for a few moments to grab some glasses as he waited for Hank's reply. Guess he'd been wearing contacts all this time.

Shaking his head from that thought, Hank leaned forward, "Just tell me one thing, Kamski," he stated tiredly, "You're going out there to destroy them, right? Not to study. Not to poke and prod, or hell, to even bring one back. You're going to wipe them out."

Kamski leaned closely, nodding, "That is the plan. You have my word on it."

Hank narrowed his eyes, "The count me in."

Kamski gave him a tired smile, "With that in place-"

Hank ended the call, turning to face Sumo as he exhaled. He scratched the underside of his chin, "And you, you son of a bitch... you're staying here."

Sumo let out a low borf, and Hank gave him a small smile, "Good boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask how Sumo worked in his encounter with the alien, I've go no fucking clue how a St. Bernard could be tweaked into that sort of scenario X'D


	2. The Detroit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank meets the crew, and encounters a member he'd rather not associate with. A fucking Android.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to wake up our buddy, RK800! I'll be rotating between the two of them from here on.

Waking up from cryosleep was less of a pain when you didn't wake up half a century into the future, but it still unsettled Hank. The entire crew was lined up neatly their own tubes within the ship, the Detroit. Once they neared LV-426, they were woken up for preparation to drop. He slowly blinked his eyes open, darting his gaze back and forth between the rest of the crew who were starting to stretch and cough next to him. At least this shit was still the same. One guy immediately placed a cigar in his mouth, seeming set and ready to obliterate his lungs.

"They're not paying us enough for this," the woman next to him groused. She had a bleach blond military cut, and her body was lean with strong definitions of muscle. Her face was young, with a scar that dragged across the edge of her eye and through her cheek. However, her sharp blue eyes spoke nothing of doe eyed innocence. She looked seasoned.

"Not enough to have to wake up to Chloe Hersh's face," another crewmember called out to her.

"What?" Chloe called back out groggily, "Is that a joke, Chapman?"

"Oh I wish it were," replied the crewmember.

Chloe laughed tiredly as she turned to the man on the other side of Anderson, "Morning Manfred. You look just like I feel. Dead inside."

Hank glanced at the man. He looked of mixed decent. One blue eye and one green eye, milk chocolate colored skin, and a light five o'clock shadow. He was still laying flat on his back and his opened eyes were the only indicator that he was awake. He seemed too out of it to throw a quip back, and only blinked in response.

The man who had stuffed a cigar on his mouth stood up, the complete opposite of the rest, and seemed completely alert. He strode confidently clad in his boxers and groused at everyone.

"Rise and shine, you lowlifes! What are waiting for? Breakfast in bed?" He scowled, cocking his head up.

Hank squinted at him in disdain as he sat up, hearing his loud voice grated his ears. The officer walked forward, pacing in front of all the sleeping tubes, "Get the hell out of your beds, we aren't on some five star hotel to be lounging about!"

The guy was way to enthusiastic for someone who just woke up, Hank thought to himself as he sat up. The dark haired man approach the soldiers next to him.

"Markus Manfred, pull your scrawny ass out of that bed! Andy Rose, Mary Chapman, and Chloe Hersh, stop gossiping like some sissy school girls and fall in!"

Andy gave the man an affronted look. Clearly the man had merely been standing too close to the dialogue and was pulled into the scold.

Another crew member shivered has his feet touched the ground, "Man, this floor is phcking freezing!"

Mr. Way-too-alert stopped, raking his eyes down him, "what do you want me to do? Fetch your slippers for you?"

The man didn't seem to take a liking to his attitude, cocking his head and dripping with sarcasm, "Gee, would you Allen? I'd like that."

Allen leaned forward, voice dark, "Watch your tone, Reed...," his attention then quickly directed itself away, "Fall in people. Let's go."

Andy sighed, scratching his stomach as he fell in with everyone, "I hate this job..."

Hank walked through the lockers set before him. He wasn't necessarily built for the marines. He looked like a retired veteran, at most. Being a pilot did warrant staying in shape, so his form wasn't necessarily couch potato material, and he was fairly massive, but he was lacking the heavy muscles many of the crew here had. These guys looked far too youthful, as well.

He passed a woman with cropped red hair, doing pull ups. He felt her gaze on him as she whispered to one of her companions, "hey Chapman, who's the grunckle stan?" 

"He's suppose to be some kind of consultant," she replied, her tone matter of factly, "apparently he saw an alien once."

Reed joined in the conversation and snorted, "Yeah? Is he gunna hold up a piece cardboard reading _'end of the universe is upon us'_ too?"

The redhead chuckled as she hopped onto a bar to do pull ups, her eyes raking over Hank, "he looks like a marshmallow."

Chloe hopped over to join her in her pull ups, winking at her as she matched her pace, "Morning North," she whispered silkily, her voice still carrying the hoarseness of sleep. North smiled at her approvingly, admiring her face as they warmed up together.

Reed gave the redhead a once over, "Hey Freeman," he asked with a shit eating grin as the woman pulled her weight up, "ever get mistaken for a man?"

"No Reed," the woman replied, dropping down, "have you?"

Chloe cackled as she dropped down too. She reached over to clasp hands with North in a firm high five, and they chuckled as they walked away to finished getting ready.

Reed rolled his eyes, "Stop rooting her, Hersh. It wasn't even that clever."

* * *

Connor blinked his eyes open, and his LED cycled as he woke up from stasis. He scanned his eyes around, identifying his location on the Detroit. His eyes landed on Allen, who had stepped over to activate him as everyone arranged themselves in the lockers. The sargent squinted at him with disinterest as he confirmed the android had pulled out of his long stasis.

"C'mon Connor," the sargent stated, "make yourself useful."

"Good morning Sargent Allen," Connor nodded, "What can I-"

"Just get ready with everyone," Allen interrupted, waving him off, "and stop asking questions like you've been activated for the first time. You know the drill."

Well, he technically it was within his program to do so. Connor looked over his new subroutines and reviewed his programming. His primary directive was to research and collect data, and work with the Marines as an aid and backup. Once he confirmed these objectives, he moved forward to join the rest, watching the soldiers roughhousing and warming up after their long travel. His eyes read through the IDs the Detroit had online and he easily identified each of them from the previous missions he's had. Occasionally, he was ordered to have resets by the company to prevent overworking his processors and memory drive, but it made it easier for him to work with the crew when he least had some familiar faces. Social integration was well within his programming, but it was simply more effective to already have rapport upon activation.

That said, his eyes landed on three members who he had never met before. They were standing together discussing the schedule for the day. He scanned them as he grabbed a button up from his locker.

/ _ **Daniel Philips**./ Lieutenant of Colonial Marine Corps. Male. Newly commissioned._ Well, that explained his decision to separate himself from the group. New environment. However, it was likely not the best thing to do in order to build trust with his team. Connor glanced down to button up his shirt, and then looked up to ID the man next to him.

/ _ **Elijah Kamski** /. From the Company. PHD Biology and Master's in Business. Male. Liaison for the company and Henry Anderson._ He watched as the man buttoned up his green plaid shirt and placed some glasses on. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and tied his hair up in a clean bun. He then turned to the last member of the trio, seeming to attempt to reassure the other man. Presumably the formerly mention Anderson. Connor grabbed his slacks, shuffling them on as he IDed the last member.

/ ** _Henry Anderson_** /. _Pilot for Nostromos. Decomissioned. Recommission pending. Male. Adviser for the current mission._ The man gave a tired sigh and brushed off Kamski's hand. The man looked older than the rest, grabbing a strangely patterned button up and layering it under a brown jacket. 

Connor nodded to himself, dragging his hand through his head to pull his bangs neatly back. He'd probably need to keep in touch with Anderson in order fully understand his objectives. It seemed like the man had more knowledge than the rest about the potential encounter they would be having.

_Mission Task: Find Henry Anderson._

It wasn't high priority, so Connor decided he'd ease into his introduction at lunch. He closed off the new mission that had popped up and finished getting ready with the rest.

* * *

Hank watched the crew from his separate table in the cafeteria. He sat with Kamski and Philips as he ate in silence. The soldiers all shuffled to grab their fill of food, chatting and gossiping about their plans planet side and teased each other relentlessly. Some offhandedly commented about the lieutenant, but Hank noticed the man in front of him hadn't gotten drift of the dialogue, listening vaguely to the rant Kamski had launched into about the company.

However, Hank noticed there was one man among them that seemed slightly different. For one, he was wearing a navy blue button up and slacks, nothing like the tank top and cargo pants everyone else was wearing. He took in the man's profile, soft with his large brown eyes, young, and his pale face was coated with light freckles. He'd looked like he's never been exposed to the sun , but the pale tone wasn't washed out enough to warrant that hypothesis.

He was serving corn bread one by one to everyone, his face seeming to be more mature than his youthful looks implied. Kamski wasn't exactly here for combat either, so he wondered why he hadn't been introduced to him yet, considering he seemed to be a part of the civvies aboard. Was here as a researcher or scientist?

Anderson watched as the crew all cackled at their crude jokes until Reed spoke up to the softer guy.

"Hey Connor. Do that thing with the knife," he egged, holding his knife out to the smaller man.

The man hesitated, blinking his large brown eyes, "I wouldn't advise-"

Everyone seemed to perk up at the request, goading him on with cheers and teasing. They all seemed to know what the soldier was requesting.

The young man looked around, seeming to read the crowd before he finally relented to the request. It seemed like this was something that happened a lot. Maybe the man _was_ part of the crew's soldiers?

"Alright," he replied, his expression not even twitching. He took the knife Reed held out to him and spun it by the blade a few times before placing his hand on the table.

Chloe stood behind Reed and gripped him in a chokehold. Reed began to struggle as she shifting his hand out for Connor to use.

"Hersh. Hersh what are you doing, you ugly bitch?!" The soldier asked, squirming to get out of her grip, but failing, "what the actual phck are you doing?!"

North snorted, watching in amusement as Connor cocked his head curiously. He placed his hand over his. 

"Connor, hey. No. Stop it," he started, "listen to me, you asshole!"

"Do it Connor!" Chloe ordered with a smirk.

"Stop messing around!" The Reed cried out, squirming even more.

Connor turned to him, nodding in a placating manner, "trust me."

The man poked the knife between their overlapping digits, slowly playing the dangerous tap game with the dagger. The soldier screamed, frozen in place as Connor exponentially began to increase the speed of his movements with inhuman presicion.

The soldier dragged his scream out until Connor finally finished, releasing his grip and returning the knife. Chloe let go of her iron grip as Connor handed the knife back.

"Thank you," he stated, nodding once before picking up the corn bread basket he had been bringing around the table.

The table began laughing and chucking, and North slapped Gavin in the back.

"That. Was not. Funny," He hissed, rubbing the hand he almost lost.

Hank turned back to his food before Connor got to the table. The man finally sat next to Anderson's right, joining him in the table with Philips and Kamski. He offered his tray of cornbread for anyone to grab. Philips refused and Kamski reached out to grab one. As he set the tray down, Connor lifted his hand up to inspect something on it.

Kamski slid his eyes down the brunette, "Thought you never missed, Connor," he gently teased.

Anderson glanced over to the other man and immediately felt his blood run cold.

Blue. His blood was blue.

"What the fuck-? You never said anything about an android being on board. Why didn't you mention this beforehand?" He asked aggressively, feeling the brown eyes of the plastic man stare at him.

Kamski blinked, his face looking mildly surprised, "It never... it never occured to me," darting his eyes between the android and Anderson, "It's just common practice. We always have a synthetic on board. They provide us with innumerable amount of resources and aid."

Connor licked his wound. He nodded, raising his brows as he calmly corrected the man, "I prefer the term 'android' myself."

Kamski chuckled, the tone slightly condescending, "of course."

Connor turned to Hank, and the latter noticed finally noticed the telling LED on his right temple. Fuck, it was so obvious. Damn lights on the ceilings had desaturated the brightness. 

"Is there a problem?" He asked coolly.

Kamski took the question for him. He glanced at Hank before replying to the android, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't..." he whispered to the older man before turning back to Connor.

He placed a hand over the android's.

"Anderson's last trip had an... android. It malfunctioned."

"Malfunctioned?" Anderson scoffed, watching Kamski's thumb rub circles on Connor's hand in mild disgust. Connor seemed completely oblivious to the intimate act.

"There were problems and a few deaths were involved," Elijah elaborated.

"I'm shocked," Connor stated, clearly programed to say it, considering the lack of emotion in his tone and expression his face showed, "was it an older model?"

"Yes," Kamski nodded, "The BV500."

"Was it a deviant?" He asked further, frowning.

Kamski shook his head thoughtfully, "Not really? As far as Anderson's reports go, it was following conflicting priorities and lashed out to complete it's highest ranking directive," he propped his chin up with his free hand, "which in turn, meant it had to harm people to get it done. A very unforeseeable glitch, rather than acting on personal interest. Regardless, deviants didn't start arising until about thirty years ago. A decade later than his time before hypersleep."

Connor's LED spun, Hank catching the movement for moment before the android slipped out of Kamski's hold to turn to face him fully, "It would makes sense. My readings indicate that the BVs were always rather... twitchy. Clearly they were an inferior model. There's no way that my model would take that route. I have advanced behavioral inhibitors."

"Hold on a moment," Hank stated, ignoring the android, "what did this tin can mean by 'deviant'?"

Kamski tensed, "I shouldn't-"

Connor spoke up, aiming to helpfully explain, "from the time you've been in hypersleep, there have been reports of androids gone rogue. They were dubbed 'deviants', and are said to have broken free from their programming. They report to have begun 'feeling' and having 'free thoughts.' The incidents have been rare, and the androids do not actively go out of their way to harm humans, but they are capable of lashing out and self destructing upon reach high levels of stress."

That really wasn't helping one bit. Hank glared at Kamski, who at least had the decency to looked slightly chagrined. The man nervously adjusted his glasses.

"Connor, please explain to Anderson why that would never be an issue for you," he swiftly motioned for him to do so.

Connor leaned over to Hank, his wide eyes peering at him, doing his best to sound reassuring, "I'm sorry. I was simply explaining the situation so there would be no confusion. As I've stated, the isolated incidents have been exceptionally rare. There is nothing to concern yourself over, Anderson. I am an RK800, one of the most advanced models to this date. It is impossible for me to harm, or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being. I was also programmed with impenetrable firewalls to prevent me from deviating."

Connor nodded, feeling satisfied with the concise information. He picked up the tray of corn bread, aiming to disperse the tension, "are you sure you don't want some-"

The tray was struck out of his hands, skidding to the floor. Connor's LED spun yellow for a second before turning blue sgain. The crew all turned to face them.

"Just stay the hell away from me, you plastic prick," Hank growled, feeling tense at that flash of the yellow light, "you got that?"

Connor blinked, cocking his head as his LED spun, analyzing something. Once finished, he darted his gaze between the tray and Hank's hand, and turned to bend over and pick up the mess on the floor.

"I apologize for causing your stress levels to rise, Anderson," he stated, "but I do hope we can get along. I'm sure you'll understand the androids you've worked with are not the same this time around."

"Fat chance," Hank scowled, rising from his seat and leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reed: *throws insult*  
> North: no u  
> Reed: *surprised pikachu face*


	3. LV-426

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank recalls his time at Nostromo after it's visit in LV-426. It scares him to think that many of these soldiers don't exactly take this shit at face value.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be describing some gore. I'm not entirely sure how that sits with some of you guys (hence the rating), but it is a flashback, (specifically the alien poppin out a chest scene) and it's only like a paragraph that Hank talks in. I'm not even sure if constitutes as extremely graphic, tbh, but it's there.

Everyone gathered at the cargo bay, shuffling and joking around until Philips called them all to attention. Allen, ever the most helpful, barked at anyone who wasn't moving fast enough to assemble. Once they sat comfortably, Philips stepped forward to looked over the group, standing straight as they all gave him the floor.

"I apologize, considering you haven't been adequately briefed before arrival-"

"Sir?" Gavin interrupted, idly rubbing on the scar on his nose. 

Philips grimaced, "What is it, Manfred?"

Gavin returned his grimace, " _Reed_ , sir," he threw a thumb at the other soldier, "That guy's Manfred."

There was uncomfortable silence as Markus glanced up at his name. Daniel pushed forward, deciding not to address his mistake, "what's the question?"

Reed leaned back, looking around the group, "This gunna be a stand-up fight or another bug hunt?" His tone was bored and uncaring.

Daniel narrowed his eyes at him, but made no comment over the tone, "All we know is that there is still no contact with the colony, and that a Xenomorph may be involved."

Rose perked up, "Excuse me sir, a what?"

"A Xenomorph," Connor repeated helpfully, from his side of the group.

Reed rolled his eyes, "A bug hunt," Reed explained, turning to Rose. The other gave a soft hum of understanding.

Manfred rubbed his temple, trying to bring the group back on track, "what sort of Xenomorph are we dealing with, here?" He asked.

At that point the lieutenant turned to Hank, who had been quietly hovering nearby. 

"Anderson?" Daniel called, and the older man stepped up slowly.

Doing a powerpoint for stuffy guys in a room with fresh drinks and legal documents seemed like a piece of cake for the former pilot at this point. These folks were soldiers, and it put more pressure on Hank's mind to be forward about this.

"I'm going to give it to you straight," he began, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice, "We set down on LV-426, and one of our crew members was brought back on board with something attached to his face. Some kind of parasite. We tried to get it off, but the bastard wouldn't come off. Until it suddenly did. By itself. And died. Kane, that was my crew mate, seemed fine. We then all had dinner, none the wiser, and..." he paused, feeling the words catch up to him.

Fuck, this shit was hard to push out. It was difficult to return back to the clinical recollection, and he could not find it in himself to disassociate as he continued to speak, "It must have laid something inside his throat, some kind of... embryo. He started to..." he hesitated, recalling in vivid detail how that disgusting creature tore through his companion's stomach. How he struggled in agony with no way to aid him as his ribs broke apart in harsh loud cracks. The way the blood had bubble out and splattered everywhere on the table they had calmly been eating on just a moment earlier. The panic the room had gone into as the creature tore free and scurried off in a high pitched screech, leaving the open gap of entrails his cremate was reduced to. Was any of this possible to relay to these people without it sounding like a delirious nightmare?

"Listen," North spoke up, unimpressed with the pause he was lost in, "I just need to know ONE thing," she formed a gun sign with her hand and aimed forward, "where they are."

She immitated the sound of a gun going off, effectively dispersing the serious tone in the room.

The rest of the group chuckled and laughed, seeming to animate at the prospect of battle. Hank felt like he was dealing with middle schoolers in an English class. It wasn't as though all of the soldiers were laughing, and some were awaiting for the laughter to settle, but that said, the distraction was already made.

"Kick ass, Freeman," Chloe called out to her and reaching out to clasp hands again. North winked back her, finishing the shake, "Anytime, anywhere, Hersh."

Gavin hovered between the two, "Yeah, someone said 'kick ass' and she thought 'eat ass' and signed up."

More laughter began, frustrating Hank.

"Fuck you, Reed," North flipped him off.

Reed raked his eyes over her, "Anytime, anywhere," he returned. Freeman turned to throw another jab, but Hank spoke before anyone could say any more.

"Are you lot done?"

The smiles on their faces sagged into annoyance, as they all turned to face him. Hank walked over to North, his voice low and measured, "I hope you're right. I really fucking do."

North meet his gaze with the same ferocity, but made no comment.

Philips quickly interjected, "Yes, yes, alright. Thank you Anderson," he walked forward as Hank stepped back, "We also have Anderson's report on file. I suggest you all review it on your issued pads-"

"-Because just one of those things managed to wipe out my entire crew in less than 24 fucking hours," Hank continued, turning back around to approach the group. He pointed at the large doors that lead to the outside, presumably to LV-426, "and if those colonists found that ship, then there's no telling how many of them have been exposed to those bastards! Do you understand?!"

The room settled into a tense atmosphere.

Daniel was the one who finally broke it, finishing his statement carefully, "-they're on your pads. Look them over. Any questions?"

Reed slowly raised his hand. Daniel clenched his jaw before speaking, "what is it, private?"

Reed scowled at his lieutenant, his tone sardonic, "Yeah, uh, how do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?"

"Shut the hell up, Reed," Allen scolded.

Nodding, and clearly expecting something along those lines from the private, Philips chose to ignore it, "All right. Now listen up. I want this to go smooth, and by the numbers. I want D.C.S. and tactical database assimilation by 0830-"

Everyone groaned.

"-Ordinance loading, weapons strip, and drop-ship prep details will have seven hours," he ordered.

"Oh come on," a voice called out.

"Now move it!" Philips concluded before he turned sharply and strode off to get started.

Allen strode forward, passing them as he went, "You heard the man, lowlives!"

They all began to shuffle into position and Allen pointed at Reed, "Reed, come here," his eyes livid, "Come _here_."

As Allen grinded Reed for his outburst, Hank sighed. Clearly no one seemed to be taking him seriously. In hindsight, he could see that what he said was outlandish, but why the hell would he be standing before them if there wasn't some truth to this all? He glanced over to see Kamski talking to Philips, and noted that he was simply hovering with nothing to do.

"Anderson," a familiar voice called out to him. He turned to see Connor, still wearing that neatly pressed blue button up.

Great. Just what he needed, the creepy android.

"What did I tell you about staying the hell away from me, Connor?" Hank stated, turning away from him. Maybe if he didn't see him, he'd stop existing. But all it did was make him think of Ash. Everything seemed to be triggering flashbacks from Nostromos, didn't it? Blue across his forhead, his LED whirring red and static clipping at Hank's skin from the firm grip the android had on him. Ash had dragged him across the ground and with the brute strength of machinery, he couldn't stop him from shoving a rolled up magazine down his throat. 

He finally turned, only to see that the Android next to him had not actually made an attempt to back off. He just stared at him, his face showcasing mild concern.

"You'll have to forgive me, Anderson," the Android stated, "It would be impossible for me to avoid you considering our roles on this ship."

Hank glanced back at Kamski, still talking to Philips in a hushed dialogue. There were really no escape routes, were there? He sighed, and spoke without thinking, "what the hell is even your role on this damn ship, Connor?"

Lighting up, the android stepped closer to him. The former pilot immediately regretted his slip up.

"I'm glad you asked, Anderson," Conner straightened into a more firm posture (Hank didn't it was possible considering how impossibly stiff the damn android already held himself at), "my protocols on this ship are a wide spectrum of things. As Kamski had mentioned earlier, I am programmed to have an innumerable amount of resources and can complete a wide range of tasks-"

"Get to the point, you glorified computer," Anderson groaned.

Connor blinked, his LED spinning. It wasn't changing color, so Hank assumed he was merely trying to readjust its dialogue, "Right," he finally nodded, "To summarize, I am capable of performing every function on board. While my priority is to document, research, and aid, I range from medical, engineer, pilot, and am capable of handling copious amount of damage should I find myself out in the field."

Hank felt his blood run cold, "You... are you combat ready?"

Connor's LED spun yellow, "No. Absolutely not. I am not programed to attack. I believe I already told you this."

The android returned back to blue, and continued with his explanation, "It is merely a last resort, so I doubt it to come into play among trained soldiers, but we normally do not have civilians such yourself and Kamski to join us in our drops. Both of you are my highest priorities, and under my programming from the Company, it's important that I work closely with you. What I meant was that if there was a need for me to be a human shield, or used as a decoy, then I could serve that use for you both."

The older man glanced at the calm blue glow on the man's temple as he casually informed him he'd literally die for them. Well, maybe not _die_ exactly, just... destroy himself. Jesus.

Granted, he was a machine to accomplish a task. He had to be durable and capable, and his demolishment was expected in the grand scheme of things. But Hank found himself wavering on the idea of it all. And he _hated_ androids. He really did. Ash had made sure of that. He had always been fairly composed, cold, and just genuinely condescending aside from his malfunctioning and anything having to do with keeping the alien alive. And hell, some people were like that, so fair enough as to why they didn't catch on to his... internal workings. But this somehow felt different. Ash had was never expected to lay down his life.

It just didn't sit well with him. The guy wouldn't even be able to act in self-defense. He'd just watch as he let himself be torn apart. Because that's what those creatures did. And it should be normal, he wasn't trying to side with the idea that it wasn't. After all, he was just a piece of plastic. But...

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Hank murmured, watching the android raise his brows at him in surprise. 

Connor shifted into a hesitant and awkward smile, "I... thank you, Anderson. Although the sentiment is unnecessary. Your words would likely have no influence in the matter."

"You got that right," Hank huffed, crossing his arms, "my words have meant jack shit so far. Everyone thinks I'm just an old hack on red ice jabbering nonsense."

"I would disagree, Anderson," the android commented, tapping his head, "I've reviewed the report you submitted. You would not have been personally requested had your words not been a lead worth looking into," his temple flickered to confirm something, and he added in a low voice, hoping to keep the personal analysis confidential, "I also see no indication in your medical records that you are under the influenced of any drugs other than perscribed medication. So rest assured that I am under no impression that you are consuming red ice and I can happily report this to any crew members with such doubts."

Hank couldn't help but snort at the naive, yet well intended response, "yeah? I'm glad to hear that."

The former pilot then crossed his arms, turning to the soldiers moving about to their assigned posts, "And what's your take on it? My report."

The android threw him a confused look, "are you asking for my analysis or opinion, Anderson?"

Anderson shrugged, "You can give opinions, can't you?" He made a broad gesture at the Android, "don't you have... uh... behavior thingys or something?"

A small smile formed in Connors lips. It was different from the smile he gave at the cafeteria. And the awkward one from a moment ago. Hank started wondering how much was programming was put place to make him catch on to expressions so quickly.

"Social protocols," the android corrected, "and as for my opinion..." he hesitated, his LED cycling yellow, "You have my... condolences. It must be difficult to find yourself at odds with the unknown, and having been the sole survivor must not have been easy. You followed through your actions with a very level head and were able to be very resourceful despite the situation you faced. Not many could do what you did, Anderson."

Hank felt his heart tug. _He's programmed to say it,_ , he thought to himself, _it's a social protocol and he literally just said it was not only three seconds before he gave his reply._

It felt comforting to him regardless. He nodded, pursing his lips as he kept his gaze forward, "Yeah," he whispered in a strained voice.

Connor LED cycled back to blue as he nodded. It's not that he forgot, but he still needed to address his objectives on the Detroit, "as for analysis, I appreciate the thorough description you gave in regards to the Xenomorph. It's quite a compelling creature, despite its deadly presence. A morbid fascination on my part," he leaned forward to regard the older man with his eager brown eyes, "If possible, I'd like to find a moment later in the mission to analyze it further. With your aid, of course."

Hank narrowed his eyes at the android, clicking his apprehension back in place, "Don't let that fascination get to your plastic blinking head, Connor. When the time comes to pick humanity or that creature, I better damn well see you picking humanity. Or I'll tear you apart myself."

Connor glanced at him in shock, yellow taking over before swapping back to the calm blue. Unlike the shock he threw at Kamski, this one actually looked slightly more expressive. 

"Oh," he replied quietly, his eyes darting back and forth between Hanks in confusion, "Of course. There was no doubt on the matter." 

"Connor!" Philips called out to the Android, seeming to have finished his conversation with Kamski, "I need you on one of the loaders! Stop buffering and hop to it!"

Connor spared Anderson a glance, "Excuse me," he stated, making his way off to help prepare for the drop off. Hank merely huffed in response, waving him off.

The android frowned as he went to climb one of the loaders. How had the dialogued tanked so suddenly? The conversation had been doing well until he mentioned the Xenomorph, but they were already talking about his report so why...?

He then recalled that Ash had also been programmed to retrieve data, and showcased 'abnormal admiration' for the creature. It was a mistake to phrase it as a fascination, in hindsight. Anderson probably suspected his interests were directed only to the Xenomorph and that he'd bring him more harm than security.

Belatedly, Connor realized his task would cause conflict with building rapport with the officer. The RK800 was assigned to the Detroit with researching the Xenomorph in mind. But he was also designed to execute other chores, as well. The point standing as he moved to pick up the heavy cargo he was ordered to organize. So he was not Ash, and the fact that Anderson conflated the two of them would make extremely difficult to convince him that he meant no harm. It certainly did not help that he held a very similar directive as the BV500. 

It wasn't that he couldn't collect information through other means. The best course of action would be to simply work with the report Anderson had of file and direct his energy to building a network with Kamski. The man was actually more into scientific research and was likely a better candidate for further investigation. It was another mission task he had pending: to meet with him upon collection of data planet side. It was his intention to do so, but he wanted to amend his issue with Anderson first. He dropped his cargo in the rightful bay, and hesitated before manually inputting a new mission.

_Mission task: Amend with Anderson_

It wouldn't do him any good if he cut off social interaction with officer Anderson, he argued to himself, the man held crucial advice that may not entirely be found in the report. 

_^Software Instability^_

He frowned further as he read the pop up in his vision. He chose to ignore it, closing it. It was likely a byproduct of adding codes on his own. He wasn't going to do it again, and his behavioral inhibitors prevented him from writing up any directives or tasks that could be harmful. Chances were that they would reset him upon arrival back to the company anyhow. So long as he informed the company he'd be fine.

Hank watched the android working the loader, a thoughtful frown etched into the his face. The former pilot contemplated whether or not he had been to hasty in his threat, but quickly shook the thought off. He didn't survive Ash without a sense of suspicion, and that's just what he was going to do with Connor. Well, maybe not with the same amount of scorn, but he couldn't just trust him simply because he looked like a doe-eyed puppy awaiting instruction.

As he continued to watch the android he realized he was once again hovering uselessly. Kamski had set off, having left them all to do the heavy lifting and Philips had gone to count inventory further ahead. He was just standing in the middle of the cargo bay.

"I dont care if you are short, Reed, get it done," he heard Allen comment. He turned to see the man grinding his teeth on his cigar, walking past the private, who was at his post.

"Wanna know what else is short, Sarge? The lifespan of your lungs!" Gavin called out.

Allen ignored him, walking over to inspect the rest of the assembling. He stopped near Mary, "corporal, I want this loading dock sealed. Now!"

Chapman nodded at him before returning her attention back to her task.

"How many more you got, Strong?" He asked the next officer as he lifted a missile up to some railing. 

Luther Strong was a large quiet man who had little to say, but plenty he could do efficiently. So Allen didn't really need to bark anything to get the private to move along.

"Last one, sir," he replied dutifully.

"Good," Allen commented, surveying his work with a sharp nod, "take it away, Manfred."

The corporal in question was manning one of the loaders, and moved to grabbed the missile Luther had propped up. He neatly placed it into the slot it was designated to go to within the drop ship.

"Clear behind," he announced as he walked back in clunky steps. Lights blinked in warning from the back of the machinery.

Hank continued to follow Allen as the crew settled into their work, his own hands itching to do something. His eyes landed back to Connor, who was on his own, carrying large crates of cargo. Further behind him, was another one of the loaders, meant to serve as a backup.

Bingo. He walked faster to catch up to Allen as he met with Philips.

"Did you check number three?" Allen asked, looking over a pad the latter handed to him.

"Let me see that," Philips frowned, looking over his shoulder.

"Hey," Hank stated, surveying his surroundings, "I feel like a fifth wheel around here. Mind if I help with anything?"

"I don't know Anderson, _can_ you do anything?" Allen replied, deadpanned. Hank forced himself not to roll his eyes as he watched the man puff out a drag from the massive wad of nicotine in his mouth.

"I can drive that loader," he pointed his thumb over to the machine that was sitting idle. "Got a class 2 rating."

Allen paused his chewing for a moment in thought, "...don't break it."

"Don't get paid enough to," Hank responded as he strode over to the loader. 

He strapped himself in and he began to shifted the limbs of the machinery. He calibrated the claws and reach, grinning to himself as he did so. It wasn't piloting, but it felt pretty fucking nice to finally be doing something.

He walked over to meet with Connor, who spared him a surprised glance before grabbing his crate and moving it to it's designated area. Hank followed, picking up a crate of his own and stopped near the two officers, who clearly hadn't expected the man to be moving as smoothly as he was in the large machine.

"Where do you want it?" He asked with a shit-eating grin.

Philips regarded his Sargent curiously, and the latter squinted at the former pilot.

"Bay 12," Allen rolled his eyes, but his subtle snort betrayed his amusement, "and wipe that grin off your face, Anderson. You look like a sleaze."

* * *

The crew gathered once more after they finished their duties in the cargo bay. They looked over their auxilery, each of them receiving their weapons. North smirked as she and Chloe gripped their flame launchers. They synced their movements, almost like twins as they stood their ground and held their guns up. Testing the weight.

"Alright get on the ready line!" Allen called out, "Go on you lazy bastards, out, out, out!"

Upon his beckon, the soldiers all marched over to the drop ship. Hank followed close behind, not wanting to interrupt any routines they had, and Kamski wandered next to him. The man gave him a quick smile before regarding the soldiers before them.

"Connor?" Allen called into his speaker as he attached it to himself. In response they watched a military grade vehicle come out, the APC, and it parked next to the ready line. It looked like the vintage batmobile from the early 2000s, in Hank's opinion. 

"Alright lowlives, no bitching and whining from here," he started as the soldiers filed in near the vehicle, "We go down, we get the job done, and come right back up. Understood?"

"Yes sir," they all replied, adjusting their own communication gear.

Once fully assembled, the Sargent paced in front of them, reviewing their stances, "Good," the Sargent commented, "let's pack it in, then!"

Chloe elbowed North as they loaded the APC, "You ready?"

"You kidding? I was born for this," she replied, staring straight ahead.

Allen counted each of them as the passed him, "I want combat seating everyone, you know where to go."

Hank shuffled in after, looking around as Kamski kept behind him. Unlike the soldiers, they really didn't have assigned seats they were aware of. Thankfully, Manfred noticed them and quietly guided them both to their designated seats.

"Stow those weapons, ladies!" Allen called out to North and Chloe, who seemed the last put their weapons up. Philips side eyed them as he situated himself in front of a small station with various monitors.

Hank and Kamski sat together, watching everyone locking into their own seats.

"Alright Connor," Philips ordered into the microphone, "lets go."

"Roger," the android replied, his LED excitedly spinning as he drove the vehicle inside the shuttle craft.

Reed shuffled around, reviewing and securing everyone's straps and safety bars, "Let's phcking go, asswipes."

The pilot in the intercom called out her announcements for take off as the cargo bay opened it's doors from the below.

"Confirm cross-lock and drop stations secured," the pilot announced.

"Affirmative, all drop stations secured," Philips replied.

"Stand by, ten seconds," the woman announced.

As the woman began her countdown, Reed stared straight at Hank, "Get ready to go down the express elevator to Hell."

The man grimaced at the heads up as the woman finished her countdown.

"...two, one, mark."

There was a moment of suspense as the craft was released, and immediately after was a rush of everything dropping abruptly. Hank felt his guts rise to his throat. Reed wasn't fucking kidding. He wasn't prone sickness, considering his profession, but he wasn't young enough for this type of entertainment.

"Hell yeaaaaaah!" Gavin cried out as they lurched down in free-fall.

The shuttle finally gained enough space to propel forward, and the craft finally set off to the planet.

Hank glanced over to Philips as the pilot relayed their movement, mentioning they'd be hit some turbulence. The man was sweating bullets, it seemed. And he thought _he_ was bad.

"How many drops is this for you, Lieutenant?" Kamski asked, hoping to distract him with small talk.

The man was hesitant to reply, regarding the two civilians with a what he hoped was a straight face. 

It wasn't.

"Thirty-eight," he informed them, "...simulated."

North frowned, "How many combat drops?" She asked over the loud sounds of the the turbulence.

"Uh, two...," he replied, turning to look at her for a split second before facing forward, "including this one."

"God damn," Chloe commented as North turned to her in distaste.

"Shit," Reed added in frustration.

Hank turned to glare at Kamski, who shrugged his shoulders. What a disaster. Trained for this shit, Hank recalled the man saying. Hell, trained under the cushions of simulations, it seemed.

As he awaited through the long travel, a light clank brought his attention to Manfred. The soldier had been so relaxed within the last few minutes that he was able to take a fucking nap. His head had dipped to the side onto the metal restrains as he slept away, not even breaking a sweat like his lieutenant was. Hank envied him. What he'd give to sleep so restfully in a situation like this. Or at all, for that matter.

As the pilot coursed through the terrain, the rest of the crew spoke amongst themselves during the long ride.

Andy shook his head, "I'm telling you, I've got a bad feeling about this drop."

Mary chuckled, "You always say that Rose," she threw him a teasing smile, mimicking his voice in a goofy tone, "You always say 'I got a bad feeling about this drop.'"

At the quip, Rose rolled his eyes, but returned the playful smile, "Fine, fine. And when we get back without you, Chapman, I'll be the one to call your cat back homeside."

They chuckled at each others antics. 

Philips distracted himself with his duties, looking over the monitors and turning on all the visuals from the cameras strapped onto the soldiers, "Alright, let's see what we got... everyone seems to be online..."

Hank looked over at the screens, reviewing the monitors that displayed the visuals. It was like looking through everyone's eyes. He noticed another set next to them showcasing the vitals on the screen. He went down each one, reading each of the names until he landed on an unexpected one

_RK800_

He glanced over, trying to find the visuals for the android, and landed on the one that was sitting the most idle. Connor seemed to be sitting in his spot at the front of the APC, playing with a coin as he awaited instruction. His camera was slightly different. Unlike the soldiers, his was likely connected directly to his vision. Every blink he made and the exact shifting of his eyes was catalogued. His gaze occasionally darted up to see the windshield of the vehicle, which, considering they were still on the craft, only had metal walls to showcase.

Anderson found himself watching the Android spin the coin in his hand seamlessly. It was twirled through his digits and he flicked it back and forth between his hands. It helped relax him as he awaited their arrival from the tedious travel. He'd feel intrusive if one: they weren't meant to be looking at the screens, and two: he was too grudgingly impressed with the tricks to stop looking.

"Everyone online, and looking good," Philips commented. Allen hovered over his shoulder, squinting at one of the screens.

"Hersh, look over your camera, it's twitching like crazy back here."

Chloe glanced at North before tossing her head sharply and slamming her camera against her restraints. Allen was about to complain, but the camera actually fixed itself, and the glitching stopped. North crossed her arms and shook her head, but judging by the expression on her face, she was clearly entertained by the act.

Philips, who was completely unaware of the action, looked closer at his screen, "better, now pan it around a bit.... okay, good."

The two higher ranked officers looked at each other before nodding. Allen checked his watch before glancing up at the soldiers.

"All right, gear up. Two minutes."

Hank darted his gaze around at the shuffling before settling his eyes back at Connor's visuals. Upon the announcement, he flicked the coin one more time, catching the coin crisply by the rim with his index and middle finger.

_Showoff_ , Hank thought to himself as he stood up with the rest, despite knowing the man likely didn't think anyone was paying mind to his screen.

Allen continued to barked orders, and paused to look at Markus, "Someone wake up Manfred," he commented, annoyed.

Reed smacked him over the head before joining the other soldiers to gear up, grabbing weapons and strapping them on. Markus snapped his eyes open, and quickly stood to get ready with everyone else. He blinked a couple of times before coming to full attention and showing no evidence of having slept through the entire trip. 

_Soldiers to the core_ , Hank hummed thoughtfully. 

They all marched over to get ready near the door and Hank stayed back near the monitors, watching the cameras on the drop ship. As the ground came to view through the heavy clouds, they showed the beacon that had been triggered. It was attached to a large tower. 

"That the atmosphere processor?" He asked, eyeing it. Kamski stepped forward, leaning to get a glimpse of what the former pilot was referring to.

"Yes," Kamski replied, seeming proud of it. He got closer to get a better view, "remarkable piece of machinery. It's completely automated, by the way."

The man seemed to be in a daze until he turned to Hank, "if you're unaware, we manufacture those."

Hank threw him a look of disinterest before turning back to the screen. They watched idly as the craft hovered near the main coloney complex.

"Storm shuttles are sealed, and there's no visible activity," the lieutenant commented, "alright, hold at 40."

"Roger," the pilot relayed.

"Give me a full circle of the complex," the lieutenant stated.

Kamski and Hank looked over the man's shoulders as they gazed at the eeriely empty complex. No activity was seen outside the walls of the vicinity. 

"Structure seems intact," Hank commented, looking back at Philips, "and they still have power."

Daniel nodded, "Okay Ferro, Set down on the landing grid. Immediate dust off on my clear, then stay on station."

The pilot nodded as she made a clean landing, "down and clear."

Hank watched everyone settling into a heavy concentration. 

_Good. They'd definitely be needing to from here on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chickenshit outfit refers to the shabby job the soldiers assume they've been given. "Can I get a real mission?" Is what he meant. Basically, they think they're just glorified bug exterminators (it's assumed they hadn't dealt with something to the caliber of the alien).


	4. Within the Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team lands on the colony and explore the main complex. There are hints of the creature Anderson had warned everyone about, and the group finds that there are no hints of humans present so far. Where is everyone? And everything?
> 
> Also, Connor finds himself popping up with more and more software instabilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not cannon on either franchise, but androids in this AU have a thin rim around their iris that glows when they are wirelessly connected to something. No real reason other than my own interest in glowing eyes.

The moment the drop ship opened to lower the vehicle, Connor took off with a heavy foot on the pedal. Everyone held tightly on to something as the Android drove through the rough terrain. 

Hank watched his visual, seeing how the Android saw the world. His eyes went to overlay a digital grid on the ground, mapping out the terrain, the speed, and cataloguing the best route through the bumpy road. There was a timer at the bottom showing how long it was going to take until they arrived at their drop off point.

"Ten seconds, everyone. Stay sharp," Allen called out after throwing a quick glance at Connor's screen. He leaned over his team, "I want a nice, clean dispersal this time."

As Connor stopped the vehicle to their drop off and the door slid open. Allen urged them out, "lets go, move out!"

North lead forward, gripping her large flamethrower and gun through the heavy rain that pouring outside. She directed her group forward as they jogged through the mud. They split in two groups, with her in the middle, steadily holding her weapon. Allen surveyed the area with his binoculars. Surrounding the main complex were several bars and stores, as the colony made a home out of the cold metal walls of their temporary homes. The Sargent noted that the area was abandoned, but otherwise held no suspicious threats.

Hank watched the soldiers from first person, his arms crossed as he paced back and forth behind Kamski and Philips. He stopped to look at the screen between his pacing, and continued with this pattern until an unnaturally cold hand gripped his shoulder.

"Geh-haah!" He stuttered out, slapping the hand off his shoulder in a panic. The outburst earned him a glare from Philips and an amused smile from Kamski. Noticing the latter wasn't concerned with danger, he turned sharply.

He saw Connor, who had stepped away from the wheel to join them. But there was something different about him. There was a sliver of light lining the outer rim of his irsis. Cycling just like the LED, but white. Likely an indicator that he was connected to the A.P.C. cameras.

"It's me, Connor," the android commented softly. His LED then turned yellow for a split second as he looked him over. Anderson glanced at the monitor to see Connor had catalogued his stress levels.

Great. Not only was he hopelessly tense, but it was getting documented, as well. He shoved Connor's face away, "leave me alone," he hissed softly.

"First squad up, online," Philips commented, "Manfred, get yours in accordance, and watch the rear."

Allen nodded over to North, "Freeman, take point."

North nodded, taking large strides forward with her gun. Her team followed close behind her, keeping sure to have her back. Once she reached the entrance of the main complex, she gave the final clear.

The team shuffled up the platform, and Allen charged forward and reviewed the lockpad in the entrance.

"Reed, run a bypass," he ordered, stepping back as the man in questions stepped forward to complete the command. He pulled out his tools and began to interface with the pad as he chewed on gum.

"Second squad, move forward," Philips ordered, surveying all the screens as he spoke.

Chloe came forward with her team, also leading with her large flamethrower. As they approached, Reed was finally able to open the entrance. North stepped next to him, holding her weapon forward to cover him. Gavin stepped back and allowed Chloe to come forward. The both stood in a set position while the soldiers checked their perimeters.

One given a clear, North pushed forward into the darkness, her headlamp and the flashing light of the other's headlamps giving her a visual to another door. Two other soldiers stepped forward and tugged the doors open, allowing her to keep her hands on the gun.

The doors led to a lit corridor, with a huge tear in the ceiling. The reinforment metal shredded like paper, dragging down so low that North had to walk around it in order to keep moving forward. 

Everyone stayed on alert as they walked through everything. Water dripped from all over the place, leaks from something that came through the building. Shrapnel and bent metal completely punched through.

"Alright, second squad in, Manfred, take the upper left," Philips ordered.

Markus shifted forward and entered with his team.

Hank gave a soft sigh of stress. He frowned deeply as he watched all the screens. Right up until he saw one that was pointed at him, gauging his vitals once again. His stress was slowly hiking up. He turned to see Connor eyeing him curiously. His LEDs all spinning continuously.

"Stop. Staring. At me," Hank mouthed at him, not wanting to interrupt the lieutenant.

Connor darted his eyes down to his lips, easily reading them, "Am I being disruptive?" He whispered back softly.

Hank rolled his eyes at him, glancing at North's screen as she continued to walk further into the complex. He turned back to Connor, who was still waiting for a reply.

"Yes, so fuck off, you humanoid traffic light," he whispered. For a high class machinery intended to have a range of intellect he sure was stupid about listening to suggestions.

Connor nodded, looking him over once before smiling. Hank had expected him to throw a clinical quip about the nature of fucking, but the android turned around, seeming to be satisfied with just annoying him. He glanced over to the androids screen, catching the update in the bottom corner before it blinked out of sight.

His stress levels had lowered. 

...oh.

He frowned, but his attention went to Allen's screen as the Sargent spoke up. His visual showcasing damage along the corridor he walked through.

"Sir, you copying this? Looks like small arms fire. Got some explosives damage as well, likely seismic survey charges."

Hank furrowed his brows, leaning forward to inspect the damaged relayed by the cameras. It was quite extensive. 

"Christ, look at all of this. Are you reading this?" The camera shifted around the corridor, Allen's name reading at the bottom right of the visual, "keep it tight, everyone."

Connor checked the visuals for the second squad, watching Markus climb the staircase. His kept his gaze locked on to his vital readings for a moment until moving on to Hudson's.

The soldiers slowly tread forward, confirming the floor was clear and nodding to his team to move forward. However, the space was very dim. Their flashlights were able to bring the corridor to view, but Philips could see the visuals were uncomfortably dark.

"Manfred, Reed, use your motion trackers," Philips instructed, keeping his attention sharp.

The two men pulled out their devices respectively, glancing down to check for any activity.

"Nothing," Manfred reported.

"Not a goddamn thing," Reed confirmed from his end.

Philips huffed out in frustration, running a hand through his short hair, "order and search by twos."

The teams complied, North and Reed taking front and the rest splitting to the sides. They continued onto the corridor on their level, keeping tight as they slowly surveyed the space.

Chloe and Manfred took the front of their respective squad. As Chloe and her group walked forward, they entered a set of chain offices, with mugs and broken glass scattered all over the place. Manfred squinted, stepping into a dark office with his partner, and then around the leaks surrounding them as they walked back out into another corridor.

Hank stepped closer, noticing something.

"Wait. Wait, tell him to...-" he gave up on the advice and went to pick up a communicator, "Manfred, back up, son. Pan right."

The man complied, his visuals turning to the area Hank directed him to. There were sizable holes on the floors, and they didn't look like explosives or gunshots.

"There," Anderson stated, breathlessly.

Manfred bent down to get a better view of the damage. The holes looked organic.

"Is the visual coming through?" Manfred asked, "looks melted. It's been corroded by an acidic substance. I'm sure someone took down one of those nightmares Anderson told us about."

"Acid for blood," Connor commented, getting Hanks attention. 

"Unbelievable," Kamski breathed out from his other side, "it's real."

"That's nothing," Reed scoffed, "Get a load of this shit."

They looked through North's visual, showing Gavin pointing a massive hole that broke through several floors. Reed leaned forward to spit in it, only to be nudged by Freeman.

"Phckin-stop dicking around, Freeman."

Allen approached them, reaching down to his communicator, "Second squad, what's your status?"

"Sweep is complete. There's nothing on our level," Manfred replied.

"Roger," Allen confirmed before referring to Philips, "Sir, the place is dead. Whatever happened here passed and left."

Daniel sighed, "alright, area's secured, then. Let's go in and see what their computer can tell us."

Hank bristled at the statement, "Wait a fucking minute. That place isn't _secure_ -"

"The area is secure, Anderson," The lieutenant spoke over him with a tone of finality. 

Hank scoffed, shaking his head.

"First team, head for operations," Philips continued, "Reed, see if you can get their C.P.U. online."

"Affirmative," Reed sighed out.

"Manfred, meet me at the south lock," He ordered, "we're coming in."

"Roger," the soldier in question replied.

Reed snorted, shifting his mike away from his mouth, "He's coming in," he joked at North, "I feel safer already."

This time the woman could only agree with the jokester, "what a jackass."

The group followed Philips as he stepped out of the vehicle, entering the complex with a weary gaze. Connor followed close behind him as Hank and Kamski staggered through the debris with some difficulty.

Manfred walked up to meet them, "Sir, they sealed off this wing at both ends. They had welded the doors and blocked off the stairs with heavy equipment."

"But it looks like it didn't hold," Philips commented, his eyes tracking the scene around him.

Hank looked around, stiff as a board. He watched as Kamski got closer to one of the soldiers, staying enough distance away to avoid distracting, but close enough to presumably hide behind him if shit hit loose in the fan.

"The area has been secured, Anderson," Connor told him in a hushed tone, "your stress levels have been steadily rising since we've stepped out of the vehicle, but I can assure you that you are in good hands."

Hank rolled his eyes, whispering as the soldiers spoke amongst themselves, "Philips? Please. He's fresh out of the academy. Clearly he's just as new to this as I am. And I've actually seen one of these bastards."

"I was not referring to Philips, Anderson," Connor replied, "his practice does not lie within this scope. Manfred, and any other soldier on the team, however, are very capable."

Markus glanced over to Connor at the mention of his name. He threw the android a hesitant nod, and Connor returned it politely. The soldier then turned back to work, but not without giving the android a quick second glance.

Hank heard himself snort, "is that your subtle way to say that Philips sucks at his job?"

Connor gave a shrug, "I am merely saying that he has not had sufficient practice based on the information he has relayed so far. I'm sure you understand the implication, Anderson," and then he winked. Fucking winked.

The android was joking. Hell, if he hadn't had death looming over every nook and cranny here, he'd actually laugh. This guy seemed pretty quick to pick up social cues, it seemed. Still didn't trust him, but he wasn't too bad.

"Must have been a hell of a fight," Rose commented, bringing their attention at the task at hand.

"Yes, it seems like it was," Manfred stated, looking around. He stepped closer to one of the barricades, concentrating on the breaches made, "None of this lasted against whatever tore through it..."

"Hersh, this way," Philips directed, "we should be able to cut through the medlab to operations."

The squad paced slowly forward, air blowing through the building steadily and the buzzing of broken machinery humming softly. Chloe walked though the medlab, ensuring the path was clear every corner as they walked into the room. 

Kamski glanced around, sticking closely to Philips as they walked through. Hank watched as Conner's LED seemed to look brighter in the lowly lit room. He glanced back to confirm Hanks presence, and Anderson stared at his eyes in fasination as the light rims glowed in the dark, making him look like a cat.

They kept moving forward until Hank's eyes caught something.

"Shit," he muttered as he came to a full stop, calling the attention of some of the soldiers. He slowly walked forward to a lab that contained large tubes with face-huggers in them. If this wasn't the biggest throwback of his life...

"Lieutenant," Connor called out, also keeping an eye on the large jars. Anderson slowly walked closer to the room, seeming in a daze, as Connor darted his eyes back and forth between Anderson and the team, "Philips," he stated more urgently.

Markus came in first, handing the motion sensor to Andy and stepping forward. He was immediately followed by the lieutenant in question. Connor stopped Hank from stepping in the room, the latter snapping out his daze, and looking back to see Connor and Manfred. The soldier cocked his head in a silent suggestion for him to step aside.

Hank complied, and Manfred moved in, keeping alert as he gazed at the tubes with concern. The rest followed suit after he gave a clear, and they all took stock of the creatures resting in their tubes.

Kamski tentively reached over to one of them, his hand slowly hovering before Hank gripped his arm. Elijah glanced over to him curiously, and unfazed by the act, "Are these the same ones that...?"

Hank gave a curt nod. The man gently shook his hand, silently requesting to be released. As Anderson did, Kamski slipped away and eyed the tubes carefully, his eyes in awe at what he was witnessing. Once out of Hank's range, he leaned closely to get a better look at one.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Kamski," Hank called out to him.

Kamski turned to the older man, eyes still etched in the expression of awe, until the tube gave a loud clank. One of the creatures struggling to reach him from it's containment. Elijah leaned back in shock.

"Fuck," Hank muttered, stepping back.

The creature writhed inside the glass, the suction meant to grip a person's face sticking to the ends of the glass and the tail wildly snaking around.

Kamski raked his eyes over it and then turned to Hank in amazement.

"Looks like this one want to take it all the way to third base," Reed commented, hunching over to Kamski's level. 

Kamski cleared his throat, giving the man a stiff smile before retreating.

Connor scanned the area, his LED spinning yellow as he analyzed the room.

"Two are alive," he comment as his eyes landed on a nearby pad, "the rest are dead."

He peeled back his nanoskin and interfaced with the piece of technology, his eyes quickly blinking as he did so. He then read a passage he picked out from the logs, 'Surgically removed before embryo implantation. Subject Marachek, John J., died during the procedure.'"

His LED returned to the blue and the light in his eyes flickered as he disconnected, "It seems they killed him taking it off."

Just outside the room, one of the motion sensors sparked up.

"Manfred," Andy called out glancing down at the tool, "I think we got something here."

Everyone shuffled out of the room and moved close to Rose.

"Behind us," Manfred stated, glancing up to his colleague for confirmation. The second nodded.

"One of ours?" Hank hoped.

Philips turned to his communicator, "Allen, where are your people? Anyone in 'D' block?"

"Negative," Allen reported, "We're all in operations."

Everyone shuffled uncomfortable, setting their weapons ready. Chloe immediately stepped forward, holding her flamethrower up. Andy stood close to her, gripping the motion sensor close and in between them.

"Keep moving," Rose told her as everyone filed behind. Connor stepped in front of Hank, and the older man glanced at him incredulously.

"Connor, your half my size, son," he whispered to him, "what in god's name are you even shielding?"

"What's important," Connor replied calmly. 

Hank blinked, blushing at the brash statement, "Important-"

"You heart, your organs," Connor glanced back at him. The spinning LED and glowing irises on his eyes catching his attention, "I apologize for lacking the luster for proper shielding, so please make do with loosing a limb on the off chance there is a full body attack."

"Oh," Hank remarked, deflating. Well, shit. What was he expecting? He barely knew this kid. _Android_ , his brain supplied. 

Connor frowned, noticing his joke didn't quite land this time, "Anders-?"

"It's moving," Andy informed everyone. Manfred stepped closer, holding his gun ready for backup.

"Which way?" Chloe asked her eyes steady and forward. Sweat trickled down her forehead. She licked her upper lip, tasting the salty droplets of sweat that had accumulated there.

"It's coming straight for us," the Rose replied, quickly wiping sweat from his own brow before glancing back down at the sensor, "straight up."

They stepped back out of the corridor, Chloe holding steady and Manfred backing her up with his own gun. The only sounds heard was the buzzing of the complex and the beeping of the motion sensor. Steadily getting faster and faster. Everyone's eyes locked onto the end of the hall.

Then something small scuffled across the floor.

Chloe pulled the trigger, shooting of various rounds as everyone stepped back in fear.

"Fuck," she hissed out, noticing that Markus had tipped the nuzzle up to keep her from hitting the target. The woman threw him a questioning glare, "Manfred, what in the fu-"

"Hold on," Manfred shushed her, still holding his hand out to block her from firing again. He glanced at back at the group, trying to figure something out before finally settling his eyes finally settling on Hank.

"Anderson," he requested, nodding for him to step forward.

Anderson grimaced, but curiously stepped forward. They wouldn't call him forward unless it was something he could handle. Manfred didn't seem like the type to pull something stupid. Connor followed close behind him, giving his shoulder a squeeze before releasing him.

Manfred pointed down at a gap between the floor and wall. Anderson grunted and he hunched down to get a better view of what the man was directing him to. Connor grabbed a flashlight from one of the soldiers and pointed the light inside.

It was a little boy. Dirt smearing his face and his hair a greasy mess. He eyed Hank and Connor with wide and petrified eyes. No kidding, the poor thing was a survivor. It would have been pretty fucked up to have been shot down by the very people that would have come to rescue him. Shit, thankfully Markus had caught that.

"Hey, shhh, it's alright kid," Hank whispered. 

Fuck, he was a civilian, but he wasn't exactly sure if he was good with kids. He had piloted for quite a few years, as well. Manfred probably realized he was the closet person to handle a kid, but hell if he was actually qualified for it, "It's alright, kiddo. Come here."

"Just grab him, Corporal," Philips ordered, his tone impatient.

Manfred reached over to grab the child, but he moved away from his grip.

"We're not gunna hurt you, kid," Hank tried, "don't be scared."

The more Markus reached, the more the boy shifted further in the gap on the ground. The boy met a dead end and flattened himself against the corner he was trapped in. His eyes still holding that petrified look as Markus reached further in, finally gripping him. That was until the boy tried to take a strong bite on his hand.

"Hey!" Markus hissed, quickly retracting his hand before the child could snap his teeth on him. There was a light click at the sound of his teeth meeting. 

Seeing an opening, the boy scurried out and zippped past all the officers. Everyone stood up in panic, darting their gazes everywhere to catch a glimpse of him. He seemed to be crawling under the metal platform they stood on.

"What are you all standing around for? Don't let him go!" Hank scolded everyone, darting his eyes everywhere. He bumped into Connor, noticing his eyes blink off and his LED spin yellow. The android's eyes scaned around until he seemed to lock on to something. He expected the LED to shift back to blue, but instead it spun red.

"There!" Connor called pointing down, moving to catch up to the child. Hank hurried over to him, grabbing a flashlight from the android, and pointed the light at the direction he was pointing at.

The boy looked up at them squinting at the light before darting to the side. He began to crawl into a small hole near the floor.

"Grab him!" Hank called out frantically, "we're going to loose him!"

Connor quickly shoved past everyone and dived into the hole, just barely fitting inside.

"Wait!" Connor called out seeing the boy trying to block him with a wire mesh, but he easily pushed his way in. The boy realized this and quickly ran further in the nook he was in, settling in a corner and staring at him with wide eyes.

Connor scanned around the small space, the yellow light in his LED bouncing off the walls of the narrow space. The floor was full of trash and rations of food. The data quickly being fed to him: the expiration dates and nutrition facts of the wrappers nearby, small trinkets and debris that the child had collected over the course of several weeks. There was a makeshift bed made of blankets and a cardboard box. It seemed like the boy had been using the area as a hideout.

He glanced at the child and slowly shuffled closer to him. He raised his brows, giving the boy a reassuring look, "It's okay."

The boy gasped, trying to merge with the wall out of fear. His eyes darted back and forth between the light on his temple and eyes.

"Don't be afraid," the android stated, slowly making his way forward, "see?"

The boy shifted his eyes to the right and Connor moved just as the boy made his leap to run away. He pulled him in a hug, not exactly knowing what else to do in order to restrain him painlessly and held the child steady as he struggled to open another way out from his hiding spot.

"It's alright...!," Connor called out as the boy writhed in his arms. His LED began to spin red, unable to understand how to get the child to feel less restless. The boy wasn't screaming, but he whined through his gritted teeth.

"I'm here to protect you. You're going to be alright."

The boy continued to squirm in Connors embrace, and the android knew his LED was likely still spinning red, especially considering how erratic the boy's reading were. He was not programmed to help children, he was build to work with adults. This was entirely beyond his programming. He rested his head on top of the boy, attempting to keep him from getting a head injury, and seeing the stress levels of the child lower fractionally the action, "I'm here to keep you safe. Please understand. You're going to be okay."

The boy made a few more struggles for the exit he was aiming for until he realized the being holding him wasn't going to be letting go. He held a pinched expression as he bit his lip, and finally sagged his body.

"You'll be safe with me," Connor repeated, closing his eyes, "You'll be safe with me."

Once he felt the child regulate his heart rate into some less erratic, he felt his own LED shift back to yellow and then to blue. He allowed his eyes to scan the room once more. His eye caught a picture frame, and he leaned over to retrieve it. It was a citizenship award, showing the boy dressed in a clean outfit, posing with a bright smile on his face.

_Colton Hicks_ , read the plaque.

He placed it back down, and ran a hand through the boy's face to look him over. The gesture lowered his stress levels slightly, and Connor allowed himself to continue pet him a while longer before taking him out with the rest.

This felt different from his behavioral inhibitors or social protocols. It wasn't a matter of keeping the boy stable. It was almost as though he could... _feel_ the concern of keeping this child safe. Not out of duty, or because his programming told him to keep his vitals on a steady level. 

He wanted this child to feel safe. And after seeing the frame, he wanted to get him to smile again. He vaguely wondered if that's why he wanted to protect Hank as well.

_^Software Instability^_

* * *

Hank approached Connor and the child as everyone settled in the operations room. Connor had the boy sitting on the counter as he looked him over for any health issues. Philips hovered over Connor, pacing near him.

"What's his name again?"

"Colton," Connor replied, putting away his medical equipment away and smiling softly at him.

"Colton," Daniel asked carefully, leaning over to meet his level, "Concentrate. Just start at the beginning. Where are your parents?"

Colton stared forward, his body hunched over and his eyes dead.

"Hell, Colton!" Philips called, "We're trying to help-"

"Give it a rest, Philips!" Hank scolded, shaking his head as the lieutenant looked over to him.

"Total brain lock," Daniel fumed in frustration.

Connor perked up, "Physically, he's okay," he regarded Philips with a tone reserved for a child. Which, ironically enough, was not under his programming, nor directed to the actual child present, "borderline malnutrition, but there is no indication that there is any permanent damage, lieutenant."

The man glared at the android before turning sharply to the rest of the crew, "We're wasting our time."

As he strode off, Hank moved forward to sit near the boy. He glanced over to Connor, whose LED spun yellow, regarding the boy with concern. 

Aw fuck, was he worried about the poor kid too? Hank allowed himself a small smile before pulling two chairs up for them to sit. Connor blinked at the action, his LED stablizing before he took a chair and sat. His attention snapped over to Anderson as the man took a seat in his own chair.

The older man leaned forward and offered a small cup to the boy, "Try this," he murmured gently, "it's some hot chocolate."

He took the boy's hand and raised the drink to his lips. He could feel the android's eyes on him as he did so. Finally, the boy began to sip the drink, his throat bobbing to indicate he was taking more than just as sip.

Hank gave a small smile, "Atta boy..." the cup tipped slightly, almost spilling, "whoopsie," he stated calmly, "Guess it was some really good stuff, huh kid?"

It was strange seeing Anderson like this. The man was usually in high tension and cursed up a storm. Connor was entranced as he watched him care for the child. He was honestly impressed with how much gentleness he used. He catalogued the behavior, keeping his focus on the man's actions. He wanted to be able to soothe Colton as well.

Hank leaned over grab a clean towel and wiped the corner of Colton's mouth, where chocolate had trickled down.

"Oh geez," Hank stated playfully, his voice low, "I made a clean spot here. You know what this means, right Connor?"

The android blinked in confusion, not realizing he was going to be pulled into the conversation, his LED spinning yellow, "I-no, I do not,"

"Means I'm gunna have to clean the whole thing," Anderson tutted light heartedly, never removing his eyes from the boy as he explained his predicament.

He dipped the towel in water and began to wipe the boy's face.

"Hard to believe there's a little boy under all this," Hank commented softly, gently rubbing the boy's cheeks.

"The one you are revealing is quite a handsome, one, lieutenant," Connor confirmed, nodding at the older man, and keeping up with Hank's dialogue.

Colton made no comment, keeping his gaze forward.

"Don't talk much, huh?" Hank asked as he continued to clean the boy's face.

The boy still seemed to be out of it, his eyes fixated on the wall past them.

"I dunno how you managed to stay alive, Colton," Hank regarded the boy, "but from one man to another? You're one brave son of a bitch."

"I don't think that should be the sort of language-"

"Don't you start Connor-"

"...Cole."

Both men stopped speaking and turned to the boy.

"What was that?" Anderson asked.

"Cole," the boy began, his eyes darting back and forth between the two, "My name is Cole. No one calls me Colton, except my sister."

"Cole, huh?" Hank smirked, "Suits you... Name's Hank," he then threw a thumb at the android next to him, "that's Connor. Nice to meet you, Cole."

"Pleasure to meet you Cole," Conner piped in.

Hank glanced over at the toy the boy had been carrying, "and who's your friend?" He asked nodded at the object.

Connor watched in confusion as the boy lifted the head of a doll up.

"Casey," he whispered.

"Hello Casey," Hank nodded at the doll, and nudged Connor's leg with his. 

Connor nodded, realizing what was being asked of him, and leaned closer to the doll, "Pleasure to meet you, Casey," he stated.

With introductions done, Hank cocked his head, looking into Cole's eyes, "And your sister? What's her name?"

"Rebecca," he replied, looking at Connor's LED as he spoke. 

"Is Rebecca around here too?" Hank offered, "Maybe hiding like you?"

Cole pursed his lips, his gaze drifting away from Connor. The android noticed his stress elevate.

"You got any brothers?" Hank asked further, his voice gentle.

Connor placed a hand on the man's knee, attempting to signal him to stop without interrupting the air with his announcement, but Anderson casually swatted his hand off. 

Cole shook his head. His expression did not indicating the readings Connor was seeing.

"Mom and dad?" Hank continued, cocking his head. Cole turned his gaze to Hank, nodding slowly.

Connor's LED went yellow, the boy's stress had jumped at the question. 

"Anderson-"

"Cole," The former pilot cut him off, "look at me. Where are they?"

"They're dead! All dead!" Cole stated, his voice rose as he spoke, "Can I go now?"

Shit. Hank darted his eyes and saw Connor's LED spinning yellow. Plastic prick was probably trying to warn him. The android was frowning disapprovingly at him, too. He turned back to Cole, frowning, "I'm sorry Cole."

"Cole, don't you think you'd be safer with us?" The android inquired softly.

The boy shook his head, and Connor could fee his heart drop. Or the only equivalent to it.

"These people are here to protect you," Hank stated, nodding to the people gathered outside, "they're soldiers."

"It won't make any difference," Cole replied, his face looking defeated.

The two men glanced at each other frowning. How could they argue safety to a child who had seen hell itself?

* * *

Kamski stood next to Reed as the latter looked over the plans of the colony.

"Heard you almost shot a kid?" The Gavin asked as Daniel and Markus approached.

Philips narrowed his eyes at him, "Just tell me what you're scanning for, Private."

"P.D.T.s," Markus replied, staring at the screen.

"What?" The lieutenant replied.

"Personal data transmitters," Kamski replied cooly, "Every colonist had one surgically implanted. This job is prone to accidents, after all. 

Reed looked over his work, "If they're within 20 klicks, we'll read it from here," he then fumed, "but so far, we got nothin'."

Philips huffed out in frustration, "then keep searching, private," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," Reed replied in a clipped tone. Not like the man even knew what the order even entailed.

Kamski turned his attention away from the soldiers, tapping his chin and surveying the room. His eyes caught on Connor, who was speaking to Anderson and the child they had found.

Looks like someone forget why they were here, didn't they?

* * *

Kamski had not been subtle in his insistence to pull Connor aside, and the android could sense that despite his smiles and tactile manner, the man was not one to keep waiting. Once he mentioned if Connor had taken any samples of the creatures they had found, the android could feel his face heat up in guilt. He regrettably dismissed himself to get started on his work. The job he had been assigned on board to do.

He was mortified to think that he'd almost forgotten.

"Thank you for taking a moment to do this, Connor," Kamski stated as Connor analyzed the corpse of the facehugger he had dissected, "I don't mean to pull you away from Colton and Anderson, but... you understand my curiosity, don't you?"

Luther pulled in a cart with some medical supplies, "anything else?" The man asked.

Kamski glanced at Connor, who surveyed the tools brought to him, "no, that would be all," he confirmed.

The soldier walked out, letting the doors slide behind them. Connor continued his conversation once the man left.

"Of course, Kamski," he replied, "I realize that I have the capacity of analyzing these creatures at a faster rate than a normal person," he paused, smiling as he picked through the entrails of the creature before him, "I trust Anderson is quite capable with handling Cole on his own for a while."

"Cole, right, right. He preferred that name, didn't he...," Kamski replied distractedly as he looked over the pad Connor was connected to. He read through the information the android was quickly gathering.

"It's quite a... unique specimen," Kamski commented, smiling lazily at the screen.

Connor kept his gaze on the microscope, "I understand the sentiment. It's quite magnificent."

"I'm glad to see you agree," Kamski commented warmly, sliding his hand onto the androids shoulder, "Would you be able to fall behind and continue to analyze the specimen with me?"

Connor hesitated at the question as his eyes continued to scan the creature efficiently. Normally, he'd be able to say yes. After all, he was built to aid and analyze for the crew. This was completely within the realm of his use. 

But, knowing Hank and Cole would not be falling back? He realized that he simply... didn't want to.

At his hesitation, Kamski cocked his head curiously, "Connor, did you hear me?"

"I am... unable to stay behind," Connor replied.

At this, the man blinked, adjusting his glasses as he turned to Connor, "I'm sorry?"

The android made no move to stop looking over the creature as he spoke, "I will be best needed to aid Cole and Hank."

Kamski gave a soft laugh, but it didn't sound light-hearted, "Connor. You're programmed to collect more information about this creature, not babysit a child with Anderson. I'm pretty sure you should be staying here to fulfill your mission. This has more priority."

The man reached over to adjust the wire connecting him to the pad, giving the usb a firm nudge into the port at the back of the androids neck. Connor grunted at the harsh jolt of pain that streaked through his wires at the act. 

"You... understand that, right RK800?" 

Connor's mission popped up in his HUD.

_Mission Task: Analyze Xenomorph_

Connor stared at the instructions wearily. It didn't say he was obligated to stay behind. He could easily come across more data to analyze if he were to follow with the rest of the team, but staying behind would be more efficient to do. Yet, it didn't seem like the _right_ thing to do. And Connor could vaguely note there was a slight difference between these concepts. He tried another tactic.

"It is impossible for me to harm, or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being."

"Yes, you've stated that before," the man replied, idly tracing his finger around the circle of Connor's LED. Slowly following the light as it spun quickly under his index finger. Connor found the gesture... unpleasant.

Nonetheless, he continued his point, "If Hank and Cole were to leave, and... get hurt," the android stated carefully, wondering why the thought struck a nerve, "then I would be allowing them to be harmed by omission of action. That is, not being there to aid," he quickly added, "and I am programmed to provide medical aid."

Kamski narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the android. He leaned against the counter, his hips touching the android's next to him, "Isn't that a reach, Connor? Wouldn't that mean you have to go in with the rest of the soldiers and take fire for them as well?"

"They are not civilians," Connor countered, his LED spinning yellow. 

"Then what about me?" Kamski asked carefully, noticing the yellow glow and the exponential decrease of information going through the pad. He placed a hand on Connor's shoulder, whispering in his ear, "you're leaving me here. Isn't that allowing me to be harmed?"

"This area has been secured," Connor replied hesitantly. He felt like the reply was such a cop out, but he pushed the statement out, "and you are choosing to stay when you are more than free to join us."

Kamski threw a soft laugh. It sounded condescending and calm considering the topic he spoke of, "I'll join, Connor. But know that I expect results eventually. I'd hate to report back that you failed your mission." 

Connor shifted away from the microscope to look at him, and Elijah took deep satisfaction in seeing his LED flashing red for a fraction of a second.

"If I didn't know better, Connor," he murmured silkily to the android, gripping his chin firmly and eyeing him curiously, "I'd say you're starting to act like a deviant. And you're no deviant, are you Connor?"

"No, Kamski," Connor whispered, meeting the gaze of the human before him, "...I'm just a machine."

He was slowly released, nimble fingers gliding off him, "Good. Good. I'm glad to know we wouldn't have to deactivate you once we return. That would be... unfortunate. I quite like your model, a very pretty face and a very resourceful _tool_."

Connor felt his thirilium pump kick up. That's right, he was merely a tool. He wasn't a human. Cole and Hank were, but he'd just be the android who went to the mission with them. A simple machine who didn't matter to anyone. He would no longer see them after the mission was complete. And there was no reason for them to visit him. He'd likely have his memory cleared, as he was growing increasingly aware that he wasn't being as productive in his mission as he could be.

When had that... become so concerning?

While he knew he was just an android, and this was the natural course things would take, it somehow didn't prevent the inexplicable squeeze his chest gave. An agony lancing through him despite his self-diagnosis reading nothing out of the ordinary in his components.

_^Software Instability^_

* * *

"Alright you freeloaders!" Reed called out to the team, "your best guy on the squad just found the civilians!" 

Philips leaned in for a closer view, "Are they alive?"

"Unknown," Reed replied squinting at the screen, "but it looks like they're all accounted for. They're at the processing station, sub-level 3, under the main cooling tower."

Philips nodded, "Let pack it and head on over. Allen?"

"Aye, sir," Allen replied, and turned to the team, "You heard, people. Let's go. We're not getting paid by the hour."

"Rose, you're driving this time around," the sargent stated glancing over to the android, who stepped out of the med lab to approach Hank and Cole. Best to leave the android with civilians for now. He patted Gavin on the shoulder before addressing everyone.

Kamski was at the door, watching the trio carefully. Reed glared at the man suspiciously before moving out with everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamski is a creep, yo.


End file.
